JOKE IS ON THE SWAZI KING

It can be quite difficult controlling one’s temper when discussing all the human rights abuses there are in Swaziland.

The Swazi media are not very good at reasoned argument and prefer instead to attack critics. Just think of all the anger that spilled out recently over statements made by, and on behalf of, COSATU (Congress of South African Trade Unions) about Swaziland’s King Mswati III’s illegitimate claim to be a democrat.

Some people even complain that Swazi Media Commentary goes a bit over the top when writing about Swazi culture.

I’ll leave it to readers to decide how true that is, but I would say if you think I’m as bit ‘over the top’, you should read some of the comments that appear on the Swaziland Solidarity Network Forum. Sometimes discussions get so heated that I’m glad that the participants aren’t in the same room together because I fear they would punch each other out.

All this is a rather long-winded way of saying that there is an alternative way of getting the message across and that is through the use of humour.

There is a tradition of gentle satire in England that makes serious points by mocking people in power and by pointing out their absurdities.

Here is an example of that in action. It attacks King Mswati III and his attitudes to his wives and to wealth. It was written by Alan Coren and was published in the Times of London, UK. (Oh, and if you manage to get through to the phone number Coren mentions in the article, please let me know.)

King Mswati III's guide to domestic bliss. Volume 1: car and wife care

Notebook by Alan Coren

SO THEN, how was Valentine’s for you? Did she swoon, palpitating, over the candlelit crate of Ferrero Rocher? Or had you plumped instead for the big bunch of vintage Krug knickers? Either way, surely your testeronic billet-doux in Monday’s T2 to the effect that Cyrano de Basingstoke would tonight be ready to pluck his mandoline by the light of the silv’ry moon for his own true Roxanipoo must have gone down a treat?

Unless, of course, she didn’t get as far as T2. Suppose she was brought up short in World News by the down-column snippet reporting that what King Mswati III of Swaziland had given his wife was a brand-new BMW? So what, you reply, the little woman is not like that, elle ne regrette rien, she only has eyes for me, but you do not know the tenth of it: for the king didn’t buy just one Beemer, he bought ten, because he has ten wives, and since he can have as many as he likes — his father King Sobhuza had 120 and counting — it may well be that your little woman is online even as we speak, trying to find out if easyJet flies to Mbabane.

I have been online, too, and discovered that what King Mswati III actually has, at the time of going to press, is 13 wives. I do not know what the other three woke up to on February 14, the website didn’t say, could have been three Lamborghinis if they’re a bit tasty, could have been three nothings if, for example, one of them always forgets to set the video, another suffers from headaches, and the third has complained to Martin Bashir that there are 14 of us in this marriage. There is also the possibility that they are too young to drive, since his latest, I read, was only 16 when he married her last September, His Majesty having selected her from all the other contestants for the Miss Teenage Swaziland title, during, wouldn’t you know it, the statutory bare-breasted round.

I would like to have done more research, but it’s tricky. When I rang the Swaziland High Commission in Buckingham Gate to ask which BMWs the King had bought, 3-series, 5-series, 7-series, sporty little Z3, whatever, they said they were not allowed to answer personal questions, I would have to ask the king himself. Ha, ha, I said, I don’t suppose you have his Swazi number, and they said yes, it’s 002685185208; but he hasn’t answered yet. Not much of a surprise, really: if you’ve invested all that money in women, you’ve got better things to do than sit around waiting for hacks to ring up to inquire whether being the only absolute monarch in Africa carries any perks.

Unless, two days on, he’s just having rows. In my experience, which is of course non-existent, giving ten new BMWs to ten wives is asking for trouble: what are the odds that a couple of them have picked up dents, a third has parked hers on a double yellow outside the gym and been towed, a fourth has dropped her fag and pokerworked her seat, and so on. To say nothing of the strong possibility that the one who always forgets to set the video has slashed 40 tyres in the night.

Times of London, February 16, 2005